


Under the Midday Sun

by Megane



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Accidental POV Shifting, Double Entendre, M/M, Shaving, Teasing, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: With nothing better to do, Geralt asked Regis for a shave. Regis was more than happy to oblige, but somehow, a simple shave became so much more.





	Under the Midday Sun

Geralt sat quietly as he watched Regis do the preparations. The chair wasn’t comfortable, not entirely. It was made from sticks of wood and held together by by the scratchiest twine Geralt could ever remember touching. He squirmed in place, but he didn’t dare move too much lest he go crashing to the earth.

     “I didn’t think I’d have to wait this long for a shave,” Geralt said.

     Regis chuckled. He ran a sopping wet cloth along the edge of one of his straight razors. “Patience, my friend. You wouldn’t want me to hurt you, would you?”

     Geralt played with the thought in his mind before shrugging up a shoulder. “Could be an interesting change of pace.”

     Another laugh, softer and in a breath this time. “Am I learning something new about you?”

Regis turned slightly and looked back towards Geralt. Their eyes met, and Geralt wasn’t sure what energy was charging the air between them. He managed a small, tilted smile before saying,

     "That’s just what you like, right? To learn something new?”

     “I like a whole host of things, Geralt. I’m sure you know that.”

There it was: the soft seduction in Regis’ voice. It was almost a purr underlying his punchy accent. Geralt rose to the sound. Regis, however, was content to leave him in suspense. He turned his back to Geralt, feeling a small sense of pleasure that he was leaving the witcher hanging, anticipating something he couldn’t name. Good. It was nice to playfully throw Geralt off his game every now and again.

With a great sigh, Regis grabbed all that he needed and began setting them on the small table on Geralt’s right side.

     “Finally,” the witcher grumbled.

     “To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised you waited this long,” Regis told him. “Were this any other situation, you would have listed your various displeasures by now.”

     “I’m rearranging my complaints for the greatest impact,” Geralt replied.

     Regis chuckled. “Of course you are.” He threw the small towel over his arm and then touched his other hand to Geralt’s shoulder. Gently, he said, “Relax, Geralt, and we’ll begin.”

Geralt did as he was told. He gave one last shift in the chair in a vain attempt to make himself comfortable before he finally stilled. Regis turned to the table and began mixing the solution he used for shaving in a wooden bowl. When applied, it clung to his client’s facial hair and made their skin incredibly slick. It wasn’t a perfect solution. Sometimes, it left an almost greasy residue behind, and there was the rare occasion when it made his client’s skin break out in a rash. He was working on it, always working on it. Thankfully, with Geralt, he had yet to have a negative reaction.

He took an incredibly soft but clearly used rag and dipped it into the solution. He didn’t bother to ask Geralt if he was ready. He could tell from Geralt’s steady breaths, from the almost too slow beats of his heart. He was ready — and probably bored, the poor thing. Regis chuckled to himself and began working the solution into Geralt’s skin. His smiling must have been a curious thing because Geralt shot him a look.

 _What’s so funny?_ Ah, Geralt could write novels with his looks alone.

     Regis shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said, and it was true. It was a trivial piece of humour he had for himself. Geralt wasn’t entirely sold on the answer. His expression dulled. His eyes were half-lidded, and he raised his brows the slightest bit.

 _Unlikely,_ the look said. Or maybe even _Uh-huh_ in such a sarcastic and dry way that only Geralt could manage. Either way, Regis could understand the words as easily as if they had been spoken to him.

     “It’s true,” he said, and he lingered over the dip in Geralt’s cheeks.

It was hard not to appreciate him. He was a sculpted, handsome man. Were his eyes truly that much of a deterrent that people would call him hideous? Yes, he was covered in scars, but wasn’t that a testament to his strength? To his resilience? Humans were unnecessarily complicated things. They created people like witchers and then denounced them in the same breath. Fickle, disheartening even.

He pulled his hand away before he lost himself in his own thoughts, and oh, that was too easy of a thing to do. He wiggled the rag in a second bowl filled with clean – or almost clean – water. He wrung it out before quickly folding it and setting it off to the side. He went for one of his straight razors. He made a show of showing it to Geralt, and the witcher watched him closely.

Geralt’s eyes flicked from the blade to Regis and then back again. After a few seconds, Geralt looked up to the sky again. Silent acceptance. He was ready to get on with it.

     “It must be eating you up inside that you can’t make any remarks,” Regis joked as he moved in closer.

     Geralt huffed a laugh through his nose. There was the smallest twitch of his lips in a smile. Agreement.

     “I wonder what you would have to say this time. You always surprise me.”

His voice dropped and trailed off as he began to focus. Geralt was a canvas, an art piece ready to be molded. Even though Regis was confident in his skills, he still valued his concentration. His blade glided over Geralt’s wet skin. Geralt didn’t want a clean shave, but he wanted it close. It was always an interesting test of Regis’ skill as other clients usually wanted the hair completely removed.

That being said, Regis could only recall two times when he had seen Geralt with a clean, bare face. It was odd seeing him without his signature beard, but with enough exposure, he might have gotten used to it. Even still, he preferred Geralt with his patented gruff and natural look. It just suited him so much better.

He set his pinky against Geralt’s upper lip as he trimmed the witcher’s moustache. Geralt shifted his jaw upward, and Regis felt the faintest graze of teeth against his finger.

     “Perhaps you want me to cut you after all,” Regis said breezily. “If you keep playing around, I just might mess up.”

     “Mn.” Geralt made a noise as if he didn’t care one way or another. It was a curious honour to know that Geralt was so comfortable around him.

     Regis shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Careless as always,” he said. He wiped the blade clean once more.

Now done with the face, he turned Geralt’s head towards him with a gentle hand. The sunlight was plentiful, and the wet hairs glistened. Not that Regis needed the guidance, but it never hurt to have. He moved the blade to Geralt’s neck, and at least here, he could work to remove the hair entirely.

He set one hand on Geralt’s neck, and the other guided the blade in a steady line. Regis heard and almost felt the way Geralt’s heart changed rhythm. “Aah,” was all he said to that, and it was so soft that it might as well have been a sigh. He doubled back and pulled the blade towards Geralt’s chin again. Geralt’s neck flexed and relaxed in the motions of an _almost_ swallow. The witcher parted his lips. He must have exhaled.

Regis flicked his eyes to Geralt’s face. Geralt’s eyes were closed, but his brows were slightly lower. It would have been a clear betrayal of his experience if his heart wasn’t already skipping in its song. Regis removed the blade and, with his other hand, rolled Geralt’s head back until he was facing the sky again. After a brief pause to wipe the blade clean and add some solution to it, he returned to Geralt’s skin.

His left hand cupped Geralt’s neck, and there was a hard pulse in Geralt’s chest. Geralt fidgeted again, and it was so minute that a human would have missed it. Unfortunately for him, Regis was far too close, all too aware, and now he was focusing on the unspoken tells of Geralt’s body as well as the shave. Surely, Geralt wouldn’t be able to blame him if the shave ended up being less than its usual quality.

He pressed his thumb against the hollow of Geralt’s throat, and he took private pleasure in the way Geralt held his breath. Waiting, anticipating more of _something_ , and Regis was almost tempted to put a name to it himself. His nail scraped against Geralt’s skin just as the blade did. To his delight, Geralt let out the _slightest_ groan.

Oh, Regis couldn’t help but pounce on that.

     “Many people have experienced a sense of calm under the blade,” he said as he drew the razor away again. He wiped the blade against the towel and pretended to examine it in the sunlight afterward. “Some have even called it _euphoric_ in a sense.”

     “Really?” Geralt asked dryly, as if he didn’t quite cotton to having his shave interrupted so he could be teased.

     The tone made Regis smile regardless. He turned his eyes towards Geralt. “Absolutely. Wouldn’t you agree, Geralt?”

     Without missing a beat, Geralt said, “Well, let me get to the ‘euphoric’ part, and I’ll be sure to let you know.”

It was so direct and so _Geralt_ , but even still, Regis felt a wave of excitement pass over his skin. Ah, the things Geralt made him feel, even down to the simplest of sensations. That level of power was admirable and indescribable. Regis returned to the shave. He was almost done with it at any rate, but he was determined to make it last.

He slowed his movements to a near crawl. It was evident what he was doing, but Geralt didn’t make a comment. His body, however, was telling a sonnet. The stutterings or accelerations of Geralt’s heart betrayed the witcher’s pleasure. The catchings of his breath were faint but _there_. Regis could feel it like the sunlight on his skin. In spite of what the mutations tried to do, Geralt was an expressive man down to his very cells.

Geralt’s skin was still slightly damp from the solution. Regis took advantage of it by “accidentally” letting his nails graze against the wet flesh. This time, he was rewarded with a soft groan. Regis felt his own body stir and rise to the sound. Now, he was the one on the cusp of wanting and anticipating more. He pulled away and used the wet cloth to clean the blade in a swift motion.

     “It’s finished.”

     “Is it?” Geralt croaked.

He straightened his posture, hopping a bit backwards as he pressed his back flush against the chair once again. He had slumped during the latter half of Regis’ shave. Neither had noticed until now. Geralt reached up to touch at his face, but he took the mirror from Regis once it was offered to him. He examined himself for a long while. He tipped his head to one side and examined the length of his neck. He dragged a calloused finger over his throat.

     “Disappointed?” Regis prodded. He just needed the word.

     “Not entirely,” Geralt said. He lowered his hands, resting his wrists on his knees. “Almost had that 'euphoric experience' you mentioned.”

     Ah, and there it was. Regis set down his supplies. He dusted his sleeves as he rounded to Geralt’s front. “Now, you know I would never leave you dissatisfied.” He placed his hands on Geralt’s strong thighs.

     The witcher relaxed in his seat again. “Is that right?”

     “Oh, Geralt.” Regis squeezed his hands, only enough that Geralt could feel the tips of his nails pressing down. Geralt sucked in a breath. “It is more than ‘right’; it is the unshakable, doubtless truth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Trust, I'ven't forgotten about my other Witcher story. I've got absorbed into the other long form fic on my page. Since that'll be coming to a close soon, I'll be posting more updates on _In the Rise of Lilit_. Thank you for your patience~


End file.
